


Sol

by waterbottle_stickers



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ballroom Dancing, F/M, alina and the darkling are queen & king of ravka, all aesthetic no plot, gold is a motif in this fic apparently, rated teen bc of brief mention of hanging, the darkling is a dramatic bitch what can i say, this is basically just him freaking out over his wife, when is he not tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbottle_stickers/pseuds/waterbottle_stickers
Summary: The push and pull was intoxicating. The gilded edges of her were splitting, becoming his stars.
Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Sol

He watched her across the ballroom. The golden kefta she wore only illuminated her already existent glow. How could he have ever thought to put her in black? _My Alina, my Sol._ How could she ever be anything other than radiant? Anything less was unexceptable for her. Queen of Ravaka, the Sun Summoner, his beloved. _My Sol Koroleva, my Sun Queen._

He watched as she glided through the throngs of politicians, stopping every so often for conversation. He knew she hated him, or at least she liked to claim so. The contrast of their feelings was stark as the brilliance of her gown against the dark seeping in the windows. The treachery of it was that of a room that glows with light and laughter, but when the evening is finished, only a candle remains and the night takes over. 

Night in its cold throws, wrapped around the flame, trying not to suffocate it. 

He watched as she greeted the foreign dignitaries, adapting to them and their idiocy. _We will be here long after they are gone._ They would rule the world, he knew that. She did too. It was entertaining though, entertaining to toy with them. Ever so entertaining to watch his Sun Saint join the game. 

She wouldn’t admit it, but she enjoyed it just as much as he did. He could see it in the way her eyes glinted when the Kerch ambassador made a mis-step, forgetting her title, _moi soverennyi._ The way she smiled, like she had knives to sharpen, but was waiting for the right moment to use. The time one of the generals took a moment too long to bow; her saccharine forgiveness. 

She was waiting, he knew that. 

_“We will watch them, Alina. We will watch them dance when their hands find the nooses synched at their necks and they accept their role. It shall be our show, our own personal theatre.”_

_“Dramatics, my love,”_ She had said, twisting at a strand of snow white hair at her side. He had caught her fingers, kissing them in a breath. She had looked up, flecks of golden amid forests of brown in her eyes. _Always gold, my Sol_. 

He was drawn to the contrast, the pull of the good. It bothered him that she knew the world in a way he would never understand. 

They were changing though, her gold was polluting his ebony skies. The push and pull was intoxicating. The gilded edges of her were splitting, becoming his stars. 

_Oh my Sol._

* * *

Hours later, they danced in the candle light. A ritual - moving to no music, only the rhythm of the falling snow and the fall of their breaths. 

They had found each other at the end of the ball, a celebration for the anniversary of their mutual ascension to the Ravkan throne. A year in and she still didn’t understand that she was too good for them. She insisted on wandering through the currents of Ravkan and international leaders gathered to celebrate _them._ Their reign. 

He had smiled to himself, waiting for her if she deigned to return to her place beside him. They sat on thrones, fickle things. Made of power and the ambition of mortals reaching for the place of gods. 

She captured his attention in every moment, a soft glow played across her face as they danced. There had been a waltz, a melody before this. Before, at the party, when they were surrounded by people who didn’t matter. A musical accompaniment, playing the songs of the old country mixed with ballads of a new age. 

He had dismissed them all, of course. Alina and he had stolen the last dance, they were the centerpiece and the guests were half-eaten plates waiting to be cleared. When everyone else was gone, the musicians had continued playing for them alone, but eventually he dismissed them too. 

Now it was just the two of them, sailing across an empty room. 

* * *

She caressed his cheek. Darling touches, sacred in their inconsistency. They had come to a halt, resting in the moonlight flooded windows. They stood there, holding each other. Living off the energy of two souls bound together in a pact of everything and nothing. 

* * *

They were drunk on their shared power and it pleased them both. Eyes wide in the darkness, searching for a lie that was no longer there. 

_So this is what we’ve grown into,_ he thought. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hello all! i hope you enjoyed reading this ficlet - ahhhhh i haven’t thought about the grishaverse in a while but it looks like we’re getting a show in april, so...
> 
> if you feel up to it, i would absolutely love a comment :)  
> thanks for reading y’all <3


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